morning
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Is Greg Lestrade ready to be honest with himself about how he feels about Molly Hooper? A night on her sofa, a morning coffee and maybe he is. Sequel to 'whisper'. Angst, fluff and a smidgen of kissing. Many thanks for reading!


Beeping. Dull, distant beeping.

Greg pulled his mind out of the foggy sleep. This wasn't his bed. His legs, locked and cramped, butted up against something. Opening his eyes, he took in the red sofa he was folded into.

Molly's flat.

Feeling the sofa cushions hard under his back, he rolled over, letting his stiff legs dangle over the side. Reaching out, he grabbed at his mobile on the coffee table.

5.45

Letting it drop back down, he heard it rattle against his keys. He closed his eyes, turning his face into the soft pillow. And that familiar smell suddenly filled his head as his nose sunk into the fabric. Catching him unaware, the subtle scent - vanilla? - wrapped around him. And Greg remembered the night before.

His sudden decision that he couldn't spend the night in his own house, that he couldn't wake up to the nightmares again, had led him to Molly's doorstep. Her beautiful smile had eased the tension that grabbed at his neck, his shoulders, all over.

It all came back to him as his eyes adjusted to the pale half light of morning. He could see his jacket still slung over the chair; the chair where he'd sat and watched her making up the sofa for him. And where she'd stood in front of him, her hand on his cheek and the feel of her forehead against his. Tender, gentle.

 _Greg, what are we?_

Her quiet voice was there in his mind. He didn't know what they were. And he'd spent a long while wondering before finally nodding off. Lying there, Molly's duvet wrapped around him, her smell surrounding him, Greg wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to that question. Even if there was something there, something serious that made them want each other's company, Greg couldn't believe Molly would feel more than friendship. Why would she? What would a young, intelligent, beautiful, caring doctor see in a fifty-something, worn out copper?

As if sensing his mood, his body responded with a sharp snap of pain down his back.

'Bollocks.'

Muttering, he threw back the duvet and hauled himself up off the sofa. Too early for the heating to have kicked in, he felt the cool of the room creeping around his bare limbs. Greg reached for his trousers and shirt, pulling them back on clumsily, before stumbling towards the kitchen.

Coffee.

It was only when the steaming, blissful aroma of caffeine reached into his brain, waking him up, did he realise he'd done it without thinking; he'd made two mugs of coffee automatically, already familiar with where things were in the neat, small kitchen. And that made his heart tug a little. He missed having another person in his life, to share everyday stuff with, to make coffee for. And there he was in Molly Hooper's kitchen, knowing his way round.

The quiet sound of the door handle made him look up; a head of ruffled hair looked through.

'Thought I heard the kettle. My alarm didn't wake you, did it?' Wrapped in a dark blue dressing gown, Molly stepped through the doorway, a small smile playing over her mouth. 'Sorry.'

Watching her walk quietly across the floor, Greg smiled back. 'It's ok. Sofas don't always agree with me... not that there's anything wrong with yours, I just...'

Reaching the kitchen bench, she rested her hands on top, the coffees between them.

'You're always welcome, whenever you need to, you know that.' Her eyes found his and held on.

'Thank you.'

Pushing one of the mugs towards her, he felt her hand on his, warm and smooth fingers brushing across his own.

'Greg, last night, I, um...'

Molly looked down into her mug, her hand still on his. Greg let his fingers slip in between hers. Moving ever so slightly closer to her around the bench, he watched her lift her face, her eyes looking up from under her lashes. His heart stumbled over several beats.

She was beautiful, captivating. He couldn't take his eyes from hers. Molly was lovely and kind and a good friend, and he wasn't sure he should feel the way he did right then.

'Last night?'

Squeezing her hand, he closed the small gap between them. No, he definitely shouldn't be feeling this way, like he wanted to put his arms around her and pull her into him. Standing next to her, hearing her breathe, he could feel her warmth, the soft scent of sleep still on her.

'I wanted...'

Her hand moved in his; her fingers let go and came to rest on his cheek, brushing along his skin, bumping over day-old stubble. Greg felt the shiver run through him, knotting itself tight in his stomach.

'Molly? What did you want?'

Feeling the spark that ran along his cheek as she touched him, he tried to calm the thudding in his chest. As she leaned in towards him, her ruffled hair falling along his shoulder, her hand rested on his neck. She was there, so close. He reached out, encircling her waist, her body quietly coming to rest against his.

'I wanted to, but I wasn't...'

'And now?'

Her soft breath tickled along his cheek. The curve of her mouth as she smiled and bit her lip; Greg couldn't help smiling back. Maybe, possibly, he should be feeling this way - like he wanted to hold her against him for a long time yet.

'Now, I..'

And then she was moving closer and Greg felt the shy, hesitant touch of her mouth on his. Another shiver rushed through him, straight across his heart.

Was this what they were?

Pulling back, Molly stared at him, her eyes wide and unsure. As his hand cupped her cheek, his fingers tingling, he took in every curve, every tiny freckle on her face, her eyes such a deep brown and so shy and beautiful and...

Bloody hell, he was in love with her.

Feeling it in his stomach, he couldn't believe he'd never realised. The way her eyes looked out at him, tentative but trusting, made him ache. He loved her.

The feel of her touching him, only just out of bed, was definitely doing things to him. Greg couldn't look away. Intense. The only way he could describe the feeling that ran through his body.

Molly looked away first. 'Um, yes, so .. that was it really.'

'Molly...'

He moved in to catch her lips back to his. Lingering as he felt her hands move around his waist, and her lips push firmly against his, fingers sneaking under his untucked shirt. Pulling her tight into him, Greg deepened their kiss as Molly's body pressed along his, giving him goose bumps.

'So...' Drawing in a long breath as they broke apart, she smiled tentatively.

'Hmm?' His eyes followed the line of her lips, red and full, up along her face to find himself caught back in her gorgeous eyes again.

'Is this what we are, Greg?'

Holding Molly in his arms, hands stroking her back, the kiss still warm on their lips, he smiled. Hesitant, she looked down at her hands that had found their way round to his chest. And that were pressed over his rapidly beating heart.

'If you want us to be.'

And with her lips back on his, he felt her fingers sliding under the half done up buttons of his shirt, tickling the hairs.

'I want us to be. I want you, Greg.'

* * *

 **A little something that came to me the other day! Having written 'whisper', I wanted to know what happened the morning after between Molly and Greg. Many thanks for reading.**


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